


In the Name of Science

by Faerendipitous



Category: BioShock, Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9194624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerendipitous/pseuds/Faerendipitous
Summary: With Aperture Science Innovators, Chell thought she knew what to expect from her time as a Test Subject. For five years, it was nothing but routine, and testing. But when she's waken from Deep Freeze for what she thought would be more of the same, she's greeted with a much different, much more bizarre, and much more dangerous Rapture than the one she once called home.





	1. Let's Begin Another Story on the Shadowy Sea...

He was going to be sick.

He was the owner of the second biggest applied sciences company on the planet; he couldn't believe his men hadn't gotten rid of sea-sickness already. Someone was going to get fired as soon as he could see straight. Everything swam in and out with the water lapping against the side of the boat, and he felt his lunch was going to ebb away with it at any moment.

He hated boats. Couldn't stand them, and certainly couldn't stand on them. Sink them all, in his opinion. Give them a nice burial at sea and the world would be a better place. Amidst the nausea and the mounting headache, he struggled to remember why he'd gotten on the damn boat in the first place.

"…nson? Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ryan would like to see you on the deck."

Right.

Cave Johnson swallowed thickly, standing slowly, his head swimming and lunch repeating on him. "Thank you Caroline." He said, voice gruff with the twisting in his stomach as he looked to the woman. He saw her standing there, a ghostly doppelganger on either size of her. "All three of you are a gem." He braced himself against the door frame as the woman looked back, concerned as he gave a little _hurp_ and straightened himself out, trying to seem more presentable than ill in the company of Andrew Ryan.

Of course he'd brought Caroline with him; it was his one condition, when Ryan's reps sent for him, he told them, he said "I'm not getting on any damned boat unless my secretary's by my side." Because that was just how he operated. Aperture wasn't Aperture without Caroline, after all. Whole place would have fallen to shambles without her, and while part of him figured he should have left her back on land to watch over the eggheads back at the Facility, he had to have her at his meetings. She was his secretary, after all, and a meeting like this—

Cave blinked rapidly as the lovely woman guided him back up to the deck – he was sure if she hadn't been there, he would have found himself wandered into a supply closet, with how turned-around he was on this damn boat. Oh, no doubt, it was a lovely boat. Nothing industrial about it, not like the iron monstrosities he'd seen in the harbor, the others that had shuttled his supplies into the middle of the god forsaken Pacific Ocean, of all places.

This boat was almost as lovely as Caroline; the perfect balance of beauty and business. The rooms themselves were huge and richly decorated with velvets and gold and leathers as far as the eye could see. Mr. Ryan was, without doubt to Mr. Johnson, a man of taste. And like Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ryan could afford to be.

Cave Johnson stumbled up the last few steps, following Caroline's direction to the man standing starboard, looking out at the sea. While Cave was dressed a little more casually, his suit jacket having begun to feel awfully constricting about an hour ago in his cabin, Ryan stood straight, immaculately dressed from tip-to-coattails in Kiton. Ryan was a sharp-looking man. He was a man who looked like he knew what he was about, and that was Cave Johnson's kind of man. Cave just wished that _he'd_ known what Ryan was about. This whole operation had been so hush-hush that no details had been shared with the exception of the loading information and the invitation upon Ryan's personal cruiser.

"A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Johnson." He said, his voice more nasal than Cave remembered it, heavy with a New York accent. He shook hands with the man – a firm grip – and Ryan turned back to the sea, hands clasped behind his back and chin level. It'd been almost ten years since the two tycoons had been face to face, in a meeting at the emergence of Aperture Science. Ryan had turned down Cave's proposals, but they'd maintained a hell of a business relationship despite the circumstances. And now here they were, floating in the middle of the damned Pacific, and it looked like those proposals had finally interested Ryan.

"Likewise!" Cave boomed. He was a loud man himself; that was something that Ryan remembered about him. He commanded attention, respect, through his voice and confident posture. He respected that in a man, and Cave Johnson exuded it. "I appreciate the invitation." He nodded, swallowing nausea thickly, jaw set. "No place like the open sea, eh, Ryan?"

He hummed, rolling his shoulders, slate eyes roaming the darker waters. "Indeed. A sense of… " he trailed off, fishing for the word.

"Tranquility?"

"Power."

In Ryan's opinion, there was nothing tranquil about the sea, its constantly rolling waves, the erosion of the earth ever so slowly; strong currently pulling to and fro. It was an immense, ancient power that man could not touch, no matter how hard he tried. There was no reigning in the ocean. There was no ceasing the waves. One could only float along top of them, with hopes that the seas were kind to you, leaving you alive at the end of your journey.

There was a hungry look in his features, the thin mustache twitching up with his lips. The ocean was immovable power, and the only way to conquer it, Ryan believed, was to be immovable yourself. To brave the currents and be unaffected, undeterred, untouched.

To be more powerful than the ocean.

Ryan took a deep breath, the moment of reflection passing as the waves trundled against the hull of the boat fare below them. He gave a small bounce of the shoulders, as if jump-starting himself. "I'd like to congratulate you, Mr. Johnson."

"Thank you." Cave said promptly, with a little nod that set his equilibrium teetering dangerously for a moment. No sudden movements. "Can I ask what for?"

"Aperture Science is a fine company. You're quite the entrepreneur, Mr. Johnson. I admire that in a man." Ryan elaborated. "You started with no more to your name than a bit of land and a handful of shower curtains, and yet you made a name for yourself. Now you create miracles of man in your laboratories."

Cave felt a swell in his chest that had nothing to do with the seasickness. His pride and ego were both very easily inflated, and he was oblivious to any criticism. "The way I see it, is we at Aperture Science do what we must, Because we can." He said, matter-of-factly, the beginnings of a grin on his lips. Ryan knew this – it was what had gotten the two tycoons in the same boat, quite literally, to begin with, but it was one of Cave's not-so-subtle guilty pleasures to remind people.

"You've done outstanding work in every area that Aperture has applied itself to. You've got the most intelligent team of scientists on the planet – Rattmann, Suchong – the best of the best. Better than those Black Mesa rats, riding on the shoulders of giants the likes of Aperture Science!"

Cave was simply basking in the compliments. He chuckled thickly, looking down in a poorly applied attempt at humility. He knew they were the best, and Ryan knew he knew.

"Do you know why I've invited you here today, Mr. Johnson?" Ryan asked, seeming unfazed by Cave's blatant pride. An accomplished man deserved to be proud, in Ryan's eyes. To diminish one's own accomplishments for the comfort of the ego of those around you was a waste, a lie, and entirely unnecessary, especially in his company.

"Well I'm sure as hell it wasn't to enjoy the scenery." He said, looking out at the flat nothing, rolling waves seeming repetitive for miles and miles.

"Sharp as always. Mr. Johnson, I'm sure you've heard of my most recent hires, McDonough and the Wales brothers." Cave had heard of the Wales brothers – damn famous they were, brilliant architects. "And I'm sure you've heard of the… misunderstandings I've had with the Federal Bureau of Investigation – I assure you, no part of my operation is illegal."

"Old Andrew Ryan, running an illegal operation? Unheard of. Didn't believe it for a second. But you know the damn Feds. A man can't take a piss in private without them knowing about it!"

"And a man has a right to privacy." Ryan nodded. "That is why I have been so secretive about my project. I value privacy, Mr. Johnson, autonomy, as I know you do, with your Testing Initiative. But there must come a time when you share your secrets with others, if you ever want to make a vision come to fruition."

"Is that so?" Cave asked. The conversation had taken a sharp turn into interesting, and his seasickness, while still pulling at his stomach, was largely forgotten. Not many knew about Ryan's operation out here in the middle of blasted nowhere – and those who did were too scared or too well-protected to talk about it. But if Ryan was going to chat so freely about it with him, he was all ears!

"I have spent my life on this earth, Mr. Johnson, and do you know what I have learned?" Cave grunted a no. "I have learned that no man," he paused, heaving a pointed sigh, "is free. Not even the so called 'great nation' that we for now call home affords men their freedom. No… this world is fraught with leeches that will suck you of your livelihood the moment you reach out to greet them… parasites, if you will." Ryan leaned forward against the railing, arms stiff as he held himself up. "And I have grown tired of them. I envision a world where men are truly free. You have come close, Mr. Johnson, with your company, the miracles of man that you create, but even you are held down by a government of parasites, watching your every move, exploiting you, controlling you in ways you can't even imagine. I envision a world where your work can continue, unregulated, unrestrained, uninhibited. I envision a world where men are free of those who propagate the myth of a God to whom every man owes devotion. Man owes devotion to no one but Man. Devotion to the self, I say, free of the shackles of altruism. But my vision, my utopia, my monument to mankind, has no place on this earth, Mr. Johnson."

There was a pause, and Ryan's fingers tapped pointedly against the railing before them. He looked out to the sea in deep thought, eyes scanning the blue as if looking for an answer in its depths. There was silence between the two tycoons for some time, and Cave thought perhaps Ryan had forgotten he was there. It wouldn't be the first time the man got utterly lost in his thoughts and entrepreneurial fantasies. Then all at once, he pushed himself away from the railing, hands in his pockets as he rounded Cave. "Your laboratories are subterranean, are they not, Mr. Johnson?" Ryan asked, staring out at the water that Cave was trying desperately to ignore. It was certainly not the direction Cave had been hoping the conversation to take. They'd talked enough about Aperture, and as nice as it would have been for Ryan to keep serving him compliments on a silver platter, Cave was itching to pry about the North Pacific Project he'd heard so many rumors about.

"Right you are, Ryan." He said with a careful nod. "Deepest laboratories on Earth."

Aperture's laboratories extended miles below the earth's surface – so far, that many of the facility's employees resided in the employee housing on site, to reduce commute time from the surface to their workplace. They worked miracles down there, away from the prying eyes of both the nosy public and their rival companies. If Black Mesa could see him now, cavorting with the likes of Andrew Ryan, they'd soil themselves for sure. A deal with a man like Ryan put you on the map. It said, without a doubt, 'Aperture Science is the best'. And as soon as Ryan was willing to go public with his project, the world would know it. They'd run Black Mesa right out of the business.

There was a bright future ahead of Aperture Science, Cave knew, even as he stood staring out at the vast blue nothing for miles—

Allright, scratch that. Vast blue nothing for miles, except that tall, bulky _something_ approaching over the horizon. He squinted, leaning a bit over the railing as if it would make a difference, and looked to Ryan for an answer.

The man was smiling.

Cave straightened, a small line appearing between his brows and his mouth set in a gentle frown. He had listened attentively to Ryan's speech, had found himself agreeing with much of what the man said. How he'd dreamed of having a safe haven for his company, free from investigation or regulation or conflicting ethics. He'd often dreamed about a bigger, better Aperture, a company so vast, so innovative, that it would take the secrets of the world, patent them, and package them, and slap them on a plastic lunchbox, and sell them to the highest bidder – and people would buy, with stars or fire in their eyes, and deep respect for Aperture Science.

But then investigation after carefully-evaded investigation had slammed them; missing astronauts, blood poisoning, cancer, and Cave's vision of a manifest destiny for his company had become a pipe dream. And even though he didn't know how, he knew he was being handed a chance for that old vision to become a reality. Andrew Ryan, one of the most influential men on the planet, had brought him here to resurrect his dream in larger-than-life proportions, and that notion set an electrical buzz in his chest.

Ryan waited another moment or two, and the thing slowly came into focus over the edge of the Earth, as they approached. It was a lighthouse, tall and plain. A slick staircase seemed to jut out from the rocky base, disappearing into the waters below, and a set of doors were set in the south side of the structure, huge and arching and every bit as plain as the rest of the lighthouse. The beacon wasn't operating – broken or shut off, Cave couldn't tell - and it lit nothing but Ryan's eyes.

"Mr. Johnson," he said, looking over at the man, hands coming from behind his back to rest in his pockets. The light in his eye shone almost as bright as the beacon would have, and Cave felt like he was going to very soon be subjected to a hell punchline.

"How would you like to go _lower_?"


	2. A-Double P-L-E

The fluorescent lights were murder on her eyes.

It was the same, every time. Living in Aperture Science Laboratories wasn't a pleasant experience, and it was even less so for the test subjects. There was a hierarchy of living standards in the Aperture dorms: executives, department managers, supervisors, scientists, finance and legal, janitorial, and at the bottom of the metaphorical food chain, the test subjects. Chell blinked several times, her vision blurry and splotchy as her senses still struggled to wake up with the rest of her.

Cryogenic storage wasn't unpleasant. To be honest, you were kind of dead to the world. But you woke up cold, damp, and aching in places you didn't even know could hurt, and worse of all, you had to put up with these people when you woke up. Patronizing scientists who act like you've never been through the process of defrosting before – the facility's quaint little nickname for coming out of stasis – even though you've been through it more times than you could count. More times than you cared to. Hell, Chell could probably run the defrosting process for the other sorry bastards waking up, by this point.

She'd been told before that they had to check for minor brain damage every time a subject came out of cryo, but that didn't mean they had to talk to her like she was a five year old at a doctor's check-up. She half expected them to offer her a sticker before she strode out of the door.

The cafeteria was the worst, all stark white tiles and ammonia, ugly blue and orange colored plastic chairs, wobbly table tops with the Aperture shutters printed squarely in the middle. But the painful aesthetic could be mitigated by the food. Aperture was a multi-million dollar company, who employed thousands of people and housed them in an underwater ant colony of a facility. They could afford to provide the best for the people trapped here - world class chefs and a brilliant variety of foods prepared with thought and care and skill.

Chell spooned another clump of slimy oatmeal into her mouth. It tasted of vitamin supplements, powdered and dry and bitter. The orange juice was watery, probably badly made from concentrate. She hadn't even bothered with the golden discs of hashbrown this morning. She'd heard that last week one of the tier four men had accidentally dropped his plate, and it had shattered.

Not the plate. The hashbrown.

Aperture could afford world-class cafeteria service to the poor souls it trapped down here. It could, but it didn't. Chell got vague flashbacks of her high school experience every time she stepped foot in this god awful place. It had been brief, thank god. She'd gotten the hell out of dodge the moment she could. But her stay here was much longer, much more… permanent. God damned contract she'd signed, setting her up for twenty years of this miserable place. But they'd promised her, they said, when your contract is up, Aperture Science will pay handsomely. You'll be Rapture's elite. That was their plan, and they lured folks in with success stories like Fontaine. Folks who came from nothing, who had nothing, who worked a few years and put in their dues with Aperture, and left Kings and Queens.

She speared a slice of banana with her fork and brought it to her mouth. Despite the healthy yellow the peel had been, it was tasteless and starchy. She grimaced and swallowed hard, throwing her fork down and picking up her tray. It was the same routine every morning for the past five years. Wake up, force some breakfast – even if it wasn't good, at least she knew it would keep her going, genetically modified to be vitamin rich as anything – and test.

That's all she did, was test. It was all she was really allowed to do. They gave her their portal gun, Aperture's premier breakthrough, a device that allowed you to tunnel through reality and break the laws of nature, and ran her through gauntlet after gauntlet testing the capabilities, the efficiency – and the mortality rate. On more than one occasion, she'd fought off hordes of mechanical menaces. She'd been shot at by turrets, chased by security drones, told to remember to use her portal over and over again despite the fact that it was kind of hard to do so when you'd fucked up right off the bat and gotten shot in your gun arm.

And that was being lucky.

Over the years, she'd made a few friends on the testing tracks. Friends who had been there for some time, who weren't allowed to talk about their contracts, which seemed normal procedure to her until some of her friends stopped showing up to breakfast.

Rumors circled, as they were apt to, that their contracts had been up, that they had taken their reward and split, and were living topside in Rapture. There was talk of penthouse apartments with the perfect view of the drop off, talk of riches and Cohen's elaborate parties. Every time a test subject retired, these same topics would flare up, curious, wide-eyed subjects promising that when they made it topside, they'd write to the folks still in their contracts, tell them how much they had to look forward to, to try and help keep their spirits up, because no test subject would deny that it was demoralizing down there.

But time and again, Chell noticed, the letters never came. The stories of the swanky parties and the fame and fortune were notoriously absent, and over the years, many of the senior test subjects became cynical. They knew that they'd never hear news of Rapture until they saw it again with their own eyes, but very few aside from Chell suspected that no one who had 'retired' had gotten to see it, either.

Her fingers curled around a bright red apple, pulling it to safety as she dumped the rest of the contents of her breakfast tray into the waste incinerator bin. In a surprising twist of events, the cafeteria's apples were actually very good. They were crisp, sweet, and a bright red that Chell supposed wasn't entirely natural – none of the food down here really was; it was all a product of Aperture's Genetically Modified Agriculture Products program – but was aesthetically pleasing anyway.

Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to take food out of the cafeteria. Something about contaminating the sterile scientific environment outside the cafeteria doors. But if Aperture hadn't secretly wanted her to smuggle food out of the cafeteria, they wouldn't have given her a company-issued windbreaker jacket with such wonderfully deep pockets perfect for hiding things. In went the apple, and out went Chell, completely undetected.

As she exited the cafeteria, a vinyl banner strung across the hallway over the daycare center cheerfully announced to her, and all the other hapless passerby, that today was Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, sponsored by one of Aperture's finest, Frank Fontaine himself. The name was about as commonplace around there as Cave Johnson was, or Andrew Ryan. Fontaine was Aperture's second biggest contributor. He helped fund the research into the portal technology, pitted against Ryan in an all-out war of philanthropy. Who would be Aperture's leading source of income? Who would support the research that made Rapture the scientific utopia that it was today? It was no secret that Fontaine and Ryan wanted their stakes in Aperture, and it was no secret that Johnson sat back and watched the funding flow in as quickly as the ocean currents outside his office windows.

But people, lately, had begun to question Fontaine's motives. Was he really the philanthropist success story everyone had been led to believe?

Of course he was, was his answer. Of course he was, was the answer of Aperture Science. But Ryan insisted he was a rat, a parasite, and the people had begun to doubt.

Chell sighed. And hence, Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, Fontaine's last ditch effort to appear a Saint in the eyes of Rapture. Call her crazy, but Chell didn't exactly think that Aperture Science Laboratories was a place for children. Even the children didn't seem to think this was a place for children. When their scientist parents had to leave them in the Daycare center, they rarely ventured near the doors or large glass walls. They kept to themselves, keeping in pairs or groups, never talking to any of the adults who weren't their parents. It was creepy, actually, the way they acted. Chell looked into the glass sanctuary as she passed.

She pulled up short, looking down.

All of the kids stayed towards the back of the daycare center. All of them except this kid.

She was a scrawny little girl, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. It was the weirdest thing, too, because Chell remembered seeing this kid with her hair pushed back in a headband for the first few days before she kept it up in that perpetual ponytail, just like Chell's. This was Dewitt's kid, she had seen him picking her up one night on her way back to the Relaxation Center, after testing.

Sally.

Chell smiled kindly, patting the kid on the head, who ran after her. "Are you going to work now, miss?" she bubbled after the woman. Chell wasn't sure what gave it away, the look of cynical hopelessness in her eyes or the bright orange jumper she wore, but she just gave the young girl a nod. "Are you a test subject?" she asked. Another nod. Sally bounced happily by her side. "I'm gonna be a test subject too someday! Daddy says so!"

The older woman stopped dead in her tracks, rocking on the springs of her long-fall boots as she turned to face the little girl who seemed confused that she had stopped. She usually just kept on going until one of the Daycare attendants noticed she was gone and came running after her in a flurry of papers and toddlers. It was usually Chell's chuckle for the day, but now she stopped, crouching down to the little girl and shaking her head vigorously, eyes wide. She suspected that she must have scared the child, because she shrunk back from Chell, seeming a bit uncertain now.

The woman in the orange jumpsuit toned it down a bit. She wanted Sally to understand that it was very important that she not sign on to be a test subject, but she hadn't meant to frighten the child. She lifted the little girl's chin and shook her head again. It was a very clear no, and Sally could see the concern in her eyes. It made her uncomfortable, but she seemed to understand.

Being a test subject was made out to be the ultimate privilege at Aperture. To be an integral, invaluable part of the Science and the Testing, was supposed to be an honor. But Chell was in the thick of it, she knew that Testing was dangerous, continuous, and rigorous. It was the labor of the industry, and it got people hurt, or worse. It was miserable, being put into cryogenic storage after a twelve-day session, frozen for God only knows how long before being woken up and told to run the gauntlet again, and again, and again, and-

Chell smiled gently, patting the little girl's head. Sally smiled, happy for the positive attention from the test subject. She could still see that the girl admired her, her tenacity and her position above all. She sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out the red apple she'd smuggled from the cafeteria. She handed it to Sally, who seemed very happy to receive it. She took a big bite out of the red round, humming happily as another woman came running after her in a panic, thinking that she'd lost the child. Chell handed her off with a kind smile and a nod, and the woman from the daycare merely side eyed her rudely. No doubt she was displeased that the little girl had been with a test subject.

Chell stood, looking back at the woman, quick to make the same obscene gesture that she'd learned at the girls' home back in Michigan. It was one of the few things she'd learned there, from one of the older girls, the one with the braids and the attitude problem, and Chell had found it a very useful piece of knowledge. She certainly used it often enough. Scoffing at the fleeing scientist, no doubt in a hurry to get back to the other children she'd left unattended, Chell turned. She had to get to work.

She wasn't really sure if it could be called work, she pondered as she walked, weaving between groups of coats talking about one statistic or another, ducking heavy machinery and taking a short cut through the break room. Test subjects weren't paid salaries. Weren't insured. Weren't really on any Aperture roster except their schedule and the list dictating who was in cryo and who was defrosted this week.

Aperture didn't care much for their test subjects. She supposed the entire company had a years-long grudge against people like her. Rumor had it that Aperture Science used to employ Astronauts and Olympians to Test for them. Gods, running gauntlet after gauntlet with precision and endurance. Now, they were forced to pick up stray gamblers and homeless folk who needed the cash reward at the end of their contract.

She ducked again, narrowly missing a length of pipe that seemed to be humming with heat. To be honest, she would be a little dour too, in Aperture's position.

But the thing about living in such close quarters with one another, was that news traveled faster than Aperture's supercomputers. Rumor also had it that Aperture Science's luck was beginning to turn around. Rumor had it that there was a break through in development on the horizon that would put Black Mesa's merger with Kraft to shame.

The hydraulic door opened with a hiss, the circular front splitting clean down the middle as it slip open and slammed shut behind her. She endured a few seconds of high-pressure wind and UV light for decontamination – Aperture liked to put of a front of a spotless testing environment, but just last week she'd come across what looked like paint splatters on one of their precious panels. – and the second set opened for her.

Chell strode into the Test chamber, shoulders tense. There never were any scientists in the chambers, lending them a peculiar, bare feeling. It set her on edge and she scanned the small, white room, looking for the glass window into the small, safe space where the scientists usually observed. She could make out the rough outline of a coat – dark hair and square shoulders, a clipboard – through the textured glass window. The small orange light still flashed patiently on the podium in the middle of the room, where the one-portal gun sat, waiting for her to pick it up and begin the first tier of tests.

The metal heel of her long fall boots clicked against the hard floor paneling as she walked. She had gotten used to the rocking motion of the boots long ago, and strode just as easily as if she were in flat shoes. Click-click-click went her few steps into the center of the room.

As soon as the smallest bit of pressure was released from the pedestal, the orange light blinked to a happy blue, and the thing descended into the floor to give Chell more room to test.

With the familiar grip of the portal gun in her hands, she scanned the room. She spotted the exit, positioned about halfway up the far wall. That was hardly a problem, of course, it was just a matter of figuring out the test. Solve the test, and getting to the door would be simple.

There was a weighed testing cube dispenser hanging from the ceiling just over the flat, round button that constituted the end of the test. Her slate eyes travelled upwards, following the path of the tiny blue lights in the walls. It was like a dotted path across the ceiling, ending in a column hanging down from the ceiling like the dispenser tube, at the end of which was a singular, tiny red button.

That was the problem. How to reach the button, to open the door?

She glanced quickly around the room, noticing the few patches of white panels. A few squares of paneling on the floor, a few on the ceiling, a few on the far wall across from the door. She glanced down, shooting an inactive blue portal at her feet. The color swirled like blue fire beneath the soles of her long fall boots, ultimately ignored. She lifted her gun, aiming carefully and bracing herself, squaring her stance and shooting at the panel directly above her. The moment the portal opened up, she felt the ground beneath her disappear, sending her into a free fall. She fought to keep her balance, the world outside of her portals turning to a blur at terminal speed.

Her trigger finger was quick, and the portal on the ceiling reappeared on the floor beneath the button, sending her rocketing up. She hit the red circle with the butt of her gun, the device echoing a melodic chime indicating success. The world came to a halt for a split second, and then she began her descent.

There was a _thwip_ of a portal, a fraction of a second before she hit the portal below her, and then she was soaring through the air. The coat in the observatory noted that her projection was flawless as usual, scribbling down some note or another that Chell caught out of the corner of her eye before the window disappeared all together.

The metal springs of her long fall boots scraped against the floor, sending a small shower of sparks up as she skid to a halt in the middle of the hall, looking back at the test chamber behind her before turning and making her way to the next lift, to continue her circuit.

She repeated this five, six, seven times each with variation. The tests were all very familiar to her, despite this being an entirely new testing track, in that each one was merely a rearrangement of its predecessors. The tests al followed the same basic formula; it was just a matter of taking into account the components of the test. Which chambers consisted of beams and turrets, which consisted of hard-light bridges and beams? Which required nothing more than a single press of a button and a half-decent understanding of physics?

They were all very simple for her, and she was glad to be finished with them, wiping the grease off of her orange jumpsuit. It was tied at the waist, which was against company policy, of course, but much to the chagrin of the coats, no one could ever get her to wear it properly. Not any more, at least, not after five years of the restricting form of the jumpsuit causing her to miss her mark on more than several occasions. Too many failed tests, too many botched portals. She was a woman of efficiency, and the upper portion of her jumpsuit was anything but.

She strode purposefully through the last set of doors, into the lift. The music that played was upbeat, bouncy, and was something that would be stuck in the heads of every poor soul that heard it for the next week. She was glad that that last chamber marked the end of her testing period. After hearing this god awful jingle in the testing lifts for the last twelve days straight, she was looking forward to the blissful oblivion of Cryo. At the very least, there were no radios in the Cryo pods. That was once service Aperture had done its Test Subjects.

The lift ascended one more floor, and Chell exited into a small room. One Aperture-standard door stood plainly on the other side of the room. There were no buttons, no turrets, no high-density lasers, and nothing, ultimately, to open the door with. She wasn't meant to, of course, she knew that. She'd completed her testing circuits enough times to know that this was the end of her journey.

In the middle of the room stood a large glass tank, with no doors or openings of any kind. Its only peculiar feature was its contents: nothing but a concrete slab the rough height of a person, and a single egg-shaped pod that stood solitary on the tiled floor. A portal was open for her a quick-access way into the glass cube. She placed her handheld portal device on the pedestal outside the blue portal, stepped through it, and listened as the portals snapped themselves shut behind her the moment she'd stepped into the box. The coats expected her nice and neatly packaged away in one of their short-term Cryo pods – they called them 'relaxation pods' but there was nothing relaxing about them. Until you were put in deep freeze, you had this constant sense of uneasiness in your chest, thoughts racing, never asleep nor awake. It was like being suspended in some half-aware limbo hell. But she undid the hatch anyway, laying herself down and making sure her hair was tucked carefully out of the way as the hatch closed over her again. Her head rested back on the stiff little pillow, providing support for her neck, and her arms folded across her chest as if she were being mummified. The coats had asked her explicitly to keep her arms at her sides during Cryogenic Storage. She knew it creeped them out, and once she was frozen there was nothing they could do about it. So as she closed her eyes, she kept her arms folded across her chest, waiting for one of the coats to come and wheel her away for Deep Freeze.

Somewhere off in the distance, that god damned tune played obliviously on.

It was the last thing she heard before the world around her quieted to a halt.


End file.
